


They Come From Aways

by pantykinksam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantykinksam/pseuds/pantykinksam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And the older one lifts his weight up on his elbows when they make love, ostensibly to keep his weight off of the younger’s injured chest, but actually to keep himself from touching or feeling too much of him, because then he might really collapse on top of him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Come From Aways

They come from away. From out on the road. Mobile. Someplace else. And the sound of these places in their mouths make you think of love. When you ask where they are from, they tilt their heads into each other and say “Aways” and you think you’ve been kissed. They say “Far” and you see a pile of white sheets on the floor and tan legs and pale feet dangling across a messy bed. They say “No place near” and you want to say “Yes I will.” 

You don’t know where “Aways” is, and you can’t imagine what “Far” looks like, but you love what happens to the air around them when they open their lips and let their names ease out. 

Aways. The sound of it opens windows in your mind of the two of them, forehead to forehead and neck on neck in the backseat of a car. And the older one lifts his weight up on his elbows when they make love, ostensibly to keep his weight off of the younger’s injured chest, but actually to keep himself from touching or feeling too much of him, because then he might really collapse on top of him. 

Few people can say the name of their brother with such sly affection. Perhaps because they do not have family, just people of the same mama. 

But these boys soak up the juice of the road, and it never leaves them. They are young, but their eyes are old. And they look at each other with eyes that remind you of roaring waves in movies about waterfalls. 

Their roots are deep, their stalks are firm, and they only blossom when they’re hand in hand, when they have only a too-tight collar and the stench of the sweat on their backs to worry about. 

They do not smoke or gamble, but they drink and swear and spit and fuck like a couple of kids on the run, giddy with it. 

You see all this and more in just a few glances, and you are right. 

What you do not know is that the world has not been kind to them. All of the bruises they had collected over the years, all the tears and sprains and pains, and yet they cleaned up the blood and went home to each other. They took all of their horror and shaped it into something new, their own perfect image. 

So when they look at each other in that way, it’s more than an old flame. They are wrapped in each other through and through, beyond lust and even love, beyond tears and terror. 

And they look at each other like that because in those eyes,

they are finally free.


End file.
